|Widow, Corset, Ropes, Submission|
|by Margaret M|
|© Copyright 2012 - Margaret M - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: Solo-F; F/f; D/s; collar; cuffs; naked; tease; oral; climax; true; cons; X||
|Widow, Corset, Ropes, Submission Part 5: Not in Kansas any More Margaret M Solo-F; F/f; D/s; collar; cuffs; naked; tease; oral; climax; true; cons; X|
|continued from part 4
Part 5: Not in Kansas any More
About two years ago while surfing on the internet I came across several articles/sites pertaining to “munches” that specifically dealt with bondage relationships. I really had no idea that people could actually meet this way and so, with my curiosity peeked, I did some more research and found a munch, in Manhattan, that I could go to without too much trouble after work.
According to the information they gave online the group dealt with BDSM and dominant and submissive relationships and as the meetings were in a public place those planning to attend were asked to come casually dressed (they do not want to draw attention to themselves/their lifestyles). The meetings were open to both experienced and novice/curious and, after a bit more research I also found that the ages of the members ranged from fairly young to mature (yes, rather than say “old” I now prefer mature <laughing>).
The Friday of the munch I went to work wearing a very sensible pant suit and also took some extra cash along for a cab ride home (if I stayed very late at the munch I would rather take a cab home than the subway). During the day I thought (many times) of not going but after work, despite all the negative thoughts I had (translation: fears), I went to the subway near the office and 45 minutes or so later I was standing a few stores down from the diner. Pretending to window shop I went past the diner several times, each time thinking of going in or going home. Finally, with a lot of hesitation, I went in and asked for Angela’s table (not her real name). Walking towards the back of the diner I still thought of leaving but did not.
As I approached the table a very friendly face (Angela) greeted me and asked if I was there for the munch. I told her I was and after exchanging names she told me a few things about the group and led me over to a seat near the middle of the table (actually four tables that were set up next to each other for the meeting).
As I sat a few of the people introduced themselves (first names only) and I told them mine. Still feeling very awkward I ordered a diet soda from the waitress and tried to remain as calm as I could (outwardly) despite the fact that I was shaking like a leaf.
Most of the group had apparently come from work and were wearing either suits, dresses or pant suits. A few wore jeans but there were no leather wearers etc. (as per the sites instructions) and so it did make me feel a bit easier. At least I felt as though I blended in.
During the meeting I had a small bite to eat and listened to some of the conversations. No one spoke loudly and only a few seemed to be a bit more serious than the others. While most told (obviously) inside jokes and laughed a lot they all seemed genuinely pleasant and after a fairly short time I began to feel more and more at ease. From time to time I was asked about myself and eventually I was drawn into a few discussions and revealed quite a bit about myself; my relationship with Jerry, loved bondage, loved gags, some of the teasing things that I enjoyed and some of the “pain” type things I enjoyed. By the time the munch was ending a couple of the “munchers” asked me if I would like to go with them to a “play party” at a near by club. I told them I wasn’t ready for that but that perhaps next time I would.
Two months later I went to the munch again and a couple of people told me they were glad to see me. They were hoping I hadn’t been scared off.
During this meeting I began talking with Sheila. She is ten years younger than I and, without exaggerating, very attractive. We spoke with others at the table but mainly chatted amongst ourselves. By the time we were ready to leave we had exchanged telephone numbers and promised to call each other.
About three weeks and many telephone calls later I felt as though Sheila was a long lost friend and as we talked about our likes/dislikes I became more and more comfortable (and curious).
Unlike myself Sheila is a switch; both dominant and submissive and bi-sexual. And, as we talked more and more about ourselves I knew I wanted to know more about her and, well, myself too.
Please understand, I had never had a (sexual) relationship with another woman and, quite frankly, had never had any thoughts of such an affair, however, as I became closer to her I had these secret little fantasies crop up during our conversations. Some times in the office I would think about her, some times at home I would think about her and sometimes when in bed I would think about her. Hmmm, the more I thought about her the more I wanted to discuss the possibilities with her.
At the next munch I again sat next to her and when it was over and the others left she and I took a booth and over coffee discussed the possibility of experiencing being submissive to her and the more we talked the more it became obvious to me (as my heart raced a mile a minute) that I was heading into a new world and as uneasy as I was I wanted to go further.
We agreed that I would go to her apartment in Manhattan the following Friday (after work) and, if everything worked out (for both of us) I would stay the weekend and go home Sunday night. During the week we spoke a few more times and also set up safeties for me (safe word “goldfish”, safe hum “shave and a haircut”).
On Friday I left work a little early and after taking a quick shower I grabbed the bag I had packed the night before and headed for the subway. Her apartment is in a brownstone a few blocks from Central Park and when she buzzed me in I walked up the three flights of stairs and found her waiting for me on the landing. After a quick hug and smooch on the cheek I went inside and stood a couple of feet inside, trembling, and shuddered when I heard her lock the door.
She told me to just leave my suitcase in the hallway and to have a seat while she went to the kitchen and brought us some tea (she already knew that besides being a diet soda junkie I love tea – iced or hot).
As she sat next to me on the couch she told me that she hoped I wasn’t as scared as I looked and, trying to keep things a bit light she laughed and told me to relax, she wasn’t going to whip my butt until later that night. For some reason this made me laugh too and I told her that I’ve never been whipped but if that’s what she was going to do to me then maybe I should have worn some extra padding.
Taking my hands in hers she told me, in a slightly different, more demanding tone, that the padding wouldn’t help because in all likelihood I would not be wearing anything that would offer protection.
As a thousand little earth quakes rushed through me I didn’t know what to say, I had no clever come back, and as I sat quietly, my hands still held by hers, my mind was trying to understand why I suddenly felt like her possession, rather than a friend that was just going to tie me up and play with me?
Taking notice of my all too obvious reaction (blushing, silent and looking like a frightened deer) she told me to stay on the couch and finish my tea while she took my bag to the bedroom.
I didn’t even try to tell her that I would take the bag, I just watched her leave the room and sat there numb, confused, terrified and (extremely) stimulated, and all she had done so far was to hold my hands and tell me to stay!
A few minutes later (felt like hours) Sheila came back, sat next to me again, and told me how glad she was that I decided to come. She told me that tonight we were going to get to know each other and that if at any time there was anything that was “too much” all I had to do was use the safeties we agreed to and she would stop and, at that point we could agree to continue (perhaps in a different way) or we could stop everything and I would be able to leave. I nodded and said something brilliant like “thank you”.
Once she sensed I had calmed down (enough) she told me to stand, facing away from her, and to take my clothes off.
During our many telephone conversations we discussed my being her “slave” for the weekend and we covered many subjects (her/my likes/dislikes re: pleasure/pain, etc.) and, now, with this command my (slavery) was to begin.
For a second or two (maybe longer) I almost backed out. Suddenly this was very real and my choices very limited. Take my clothes off or go home.
Slowly rising from the couch I turned away from her and began undressing.
With fumbling fingers I took my jacket off and tried to neatly place it on the chair that was in front of me. My blouse was next and as I stood there beginning to take my pants off I could feel myself blushing more and more. After kicking my shoes off I put my pants on the chair and, standing in only my bra, panties, garter belt and stockings, could feel the goose bumps on my arms and legs and, knowing that my rear sags a bit, I was mortified by what Sheila may be thinking of me. I stood still for a moment but was brought out of my stupor when she said “take everything off!”
Silently I reached for my bra’s front clasp and let it fall down my arms freeing my breasts. They too sag and I tried to keep myself turned away from her as the bra joined the rest of my clothes on the chair. My panties were next, bringing me even more embarrassment and by the time my garter belt and stockings joined the pile I felt totally humiliated and embarrassed. I tried to remain as calm and composed as I could but my nipples were already betraying me by having begun to enlarge and I knew they were more than just “a little sensitive”.
I heard her stand up from the couch and when she came up behind me she put her hands on my shoulders and told me that she loved how shy “her slave” was and when she reached around and cupped my breasts my legs quivered so much I thought I was going to crumble and faint.
Self-consciously I started bringing my hands up to my breasts and puss but she told me, rather firmly, to keep them at my sides. Immediately I obeyed and stood as still as I could. It was a useless attempt on my part because my hips were already moving a little and I had already begun to try to push myself against her hands. Laughing she told me, again, to stand still and took her hands away from me and stepped back.
How long I was forced to stand like that I’m not sure. It couldn’t have been very long but felt as though it was forever.
Approaching me again I expected her to hold my breasts once more but instead I felt her put a collar on my neck. I could not see what it looked like but it felt like leather and after she buckled it fairly tightly (but not too tight) I heard the all too familiar snick of a lock.
Sheila told me that for the rest of the weekend I would wear her collar and as a good slave I would call her either Ma’am or Mistress. In a voice not much above that of a whisper I said “Yes Ma’am” and realized, for the first time, I was truly giving myself to her. It was a frightening moment, all its implications reeling through my brain, yet there it was, put right in front of me, I had no qualms or ideas of stopping, my body and mind was suddenly screaming yes, I am a slave!
To put this in some perspective, during all the times I’ve been with Jerry, we never role played Master/slave. Yes, I’ve dressed as a maid for him several times and I also dress as required to make him happy, stockings, heels, tight skirts, etc, etc, (and that makes me happy too) but we never, as I said, played Master/slave. This sudden image of myself as “her slave” was overwhelming and, regardless of all other feelings I had at that moment, I loved it!
Turning me to face her I couldn’t keep my eyes focused on hers. Instead I sort of lowered them and that made me feel even more submissive. Following her hands reach for my breasts I nearly jumped back as soon as she put her fingers on my nipples. As her grip tightened I felt the pain slowly build and when I started to moan and squirm she let go and said “very good”. I on the other hand could still feel the sting from her squeezing my nipples and how it had also begun to give me all those wonderful little tingling feelings down my tummy and directly to my puss. Still fidgeting a little I didn’t know what, if anything, to say. I just stood there, silent as a mouse.
“Good”, she said, “you remembered our conversation and rules, no talking unless asked a question”.
I hadn’t remembered a thing; I was lost in some new world and had suddenly become a blank slate. Trying to think back to everything we talked about and agreed to, after having my nipples touched and played with, was not high on my list of things to do. In fact, the only thing I wanted “to do” was serve her and ask her to squeeze and twist my nipples!
So, there I was, 58 years old, accomplished and fairly aggressive in business, having a wonderful bondage affair with a man I like a lot, standing naked, collared, with my nipples and puss begging for attention because the woman standing before me called me her slave!
“Are you okay?” she asked and after a deep breath I responded “Yes, Mistress”.
Smiling, Sheila went to a small table by the couch, opened its drawer, and took out two leather cuffs and shiny gold locks. Taking my wrists one at time she strapped them fairly tightly, ensuring it would be impossible to slip out of them, and, after locking each one brought both my hands up to my chin where, after some fumbling/adjusting, used a third lock to secure my wrists together to a ring on the front of the collar.
I could touch my cheeks, lips, etc, but was now unable to touch any other part of my body. It was such a simple and devious predicament.
Taking hold of my arm Sheila led me to the couch and after sitting down she gently but forcibly helped me kneel in front of her. Pulling her skirt up, revealing she was not wearing panties (and she was shaved!), she took hold of both my elbows and gently pulled me forward.
I had never been this close and personal to another woman’s puss before and despite some hesitation to lean forward any further (which stopped as soon as she applied more pressure on my arms) I knew I would obey.
Moving my hands apart as much as I could my lips touched her puss and with little further encouragement by Mistress I pressed my mouth against her harder and while I was experimenting with how to use my fingers to open her lips and play with her my tongue found her clit and when she put her hand on the top of my head and pressed me closer I knew that she was enjoying what I was doing, the way she moved, the sounds she was making, and I also knew that I liked how she tasted, I liked what I was doing to her, I liked being forced to give her pleasure.
When her thighs closed and held me tight, and as her movements became more violent and she became louder I unexpectedly had a sense of pride.
Despite my own needs building, which could not be satisfied without her help and, more importantly, her permission, I was happy that I was making her orgasm. I was happy to be taking her clit between my lips, sucking it, licking it, tasting her and I knew. that wherever this led me, I wasn’t in Kansas any more!
story continued in part 6
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